not your white knight

I’m scared I won’t be anything like the image you have of me in your head.

“Y’tryin’ to tell me we’re not ‘ere for that orgy?” A faux look of confusion grazed his facial features as he spoke; only to alter with the brief roll of his eyes and the shake of his rugged jaw. “How d’you know Gwen wears paper bags?” It was no surprise the sight before him had been ransacked dry - it was a prime place to visit first when the world had blurred moral lines.  “Well, at least scouts explains why you know how to deliver a child.” With the stuffing of his hands into his pockets, Corvo slouched into his familiar position. The difference between either item the opposing men possessed was far from his concern; whichever worked was more of the importance. “As much as you two wanna compete for which works best, I’ll take whatever ends up being more useful.”

He was pulling a face at the implications. “Knew I’d never be an equal part of this little pack. Never thought sex was a requirement.” Casey shrugged it off and swung the keychain around with an air of nonchalance. “Always knew you were hot for me, Corvo. Nice to get some confirmation on that.” He raised his eyebrows, before situating himself on a desk. “Girl scout, huh? Where’s my cookies, Woods?” The bolt cutters were effective. The key was the back-up plan. Casey gestured for Logan to do the honours with a nod, while lacing his fingers around the straps of his new bulletproof vest. 

“I wouldn’t call it a requirement per se, but if you wanna be the kind of tool who blue balls us in tandem, then by all means keep pretending to play coy.” The tallest male began leading the way around a corridor, pivoting on one heel and extending outwards his free hand not clutching the bolt cutters. “You think they’ll give me a patch for emergency delivery? Or do I need someone to sign off on it? Ah well, there’s always your spawn if I need a do over.” A low chuckle came at Casey’s question whilst he pushed open a door labelled District Personnel Only. Lo and behold... “What do we think we’ve got in here, huh?” Logan nodded forward at a gated off section of the precinct, bolted shut just as he had predicted. “I’ll do the honors.” Sliding the teeth of his newfound weapon around the metal fastenings, he leveraged the right amount of force to snap the very lock in two before it clamored along the cement beneath their boots. “Ladies first.”

Restraining the desire to kink-shame his friend, he welcomed the expected comment to depart from the lips of the taller male; suppressing the urging smile with a dip of his head as he pursued into the unfamiliar environment. “Speakin’ of getting laid, I’ll keep my eye out the next time we bump into some strangers. The more dominant, the better, right?” With his attention directed towards Casey, it was soon lured by the opposing end of the station and the possibility of stumbling upon something of use. From the limited weaponry they possessed, it was merely a case of taking whatever their own strength could carry. “That’s why they invented paper bags,” he called back. “I’m sure you have a few of ‘em lying around, Logan.” Despite the humour, through the narrowing of his gaze he caught sight of a rusted Swiss Army knife; some sections unusable but the entirety had yet to be coated with a sign of age. The cleaning of such a product would simply depend on their next visit to a nearby store; cola being the most desirable culprit for removing rust. “A bolt cutter? I was a delivery boy in my old life, buddy. What the hell would I need one of those for?”

They were both relentless. The comment had meant to be a light play at Corvo’s impending fatherhood, but the men twisted it, with smirks stretching across their faces. “A bottom? Guess we’ll never know, huh? Y’know, since I’m not gay.” He raised his eyebrows, pulled a face. He’d experimenting in college – before Rachel – but they didn’t need to know that. He was ready to justify his ‘Daddy’ comment before coming to the conclusion that the sooner he dropped it (hopefully) the sooner it’d be over and done with. He scoffed. “Like you can talk, Corv. We’ve all heard the stories.” He was skirting his fingertips across a dusty desk, trying to act casual and deflect the attention elsewhere. They disproved of his new attire. Casey quite liked it. It could come in handy. Anything to stop a bullet, or maybe even stop the tear of a clicker bite. “You two are hilarious.” Casey bit back, thumbs hooked inside the belt loop of his jeans. Bolt cutters and a rusted Swiss Army knife. Casey shrugged. His only notable (noticeable) contribution was the bulletproof vest. “Both of you talk a big game, but–” he tilted his chin toward any and all of the locked cabinets that lined the old police station. “Haven’t found any loot yet, have you?” He sat down on the edge of the desk, his hand raised in the air, as a key twirled around his fingertip.

“They always say they’re not gay until they are,” he winked in Corvo’s direction, allowing the implications to linger in the air as he ducked his head into the back room behind the counter. A snicker rumbled through his chest at the dark haired male’s jest. “Yeah, I borrowed them from your baby mama.” His voice rang merrily from out of sight before he finally reappeared, smirk tugging at full lips. “Right and I was a fucking girl scout.” Lifting the bolt cutters over one broad shoulder, he nodded towards a corner leading to an unseen area of the department. “That’s why I got these, unless you plan to unlock every goddamn deadbolt in this place with that cute little key.”

Isaac could only sit and stare as Logan’s words crawled up and over him, helpless to the ghost-sensation of them seeping inside to leave his bones cold. It hit him in the throat, in the chest, low in his stomach. It was almost too much, as though the dam had broken after the many months that they had fucked and fought their way through this. Together, never quite parallel but certainly overlapping, messy and intricate. It had never been so clear that Logan cared about him before today, he had been left guessing at every turn, parsing over their interactions and clawing for meaning and now that it was thrust so unabashedly into his hands he had no idea what to do with it. “I’d already breathed in spores, when I was running from them. Before I found you.” Isaac could not imagine a situation where he would not attempt to save him, over and over again, he would try. “W-we’re clear.”

"Then why not let us die together? You think I want to be in this shit heap if you’re not?” Or worse, leave Logan to put Isaac in the ground after eliminating him as a fungal ridden threat. “Good.” They remained in an uneasy silence for several beats, both males seemingly unsure of how to proceed after the inexplicable outburst. Light irises rose from the blades of grass between them to meet hazel, gauging the legitimacy of Isaac’s declaration. Did it come from a place of sincerity or was he simply attempting to force Logan into a complacency to avoid another lecture. After a moment’s thought, he decided it was the former and nodded in acceptance. “Unfortunately for you, I have to say the feeling’s mutual.”

“I take it there won’t be any making out in the immediate future, just guessin’.” Isaac’s eyes sluggishly moved over the other, then the mirth dropped off his face as he struggled to catch up and process the words. His thick brows arched upward so sharply toward one another they almost met in the middle. “That isn’t one of the things, is it?” Horrified, the only word for the expression twisting his features. There were alot of things he could take; getting his insides burned by acid for one, getting a terrible concussion in the process of being kidnapped was another, not to mention being stabbed in the shoulder. The thought of Logan forsaking their… Whatever it was, however, was not. “I’m sorry now, I am, please don’t—” His body cut him off, drawing his speech into a strangled sort of sound that had his nails digging into the dirt, fingers curled and knuckles bone white. 

Logan sat beside his counterpart in stoic silence for several beats of a second, witnessing the distressed expressions as they crossed Isaac’s features in rapid fire. “I meant you’re not pulling anymore heroic shit,” he finally voiced when the younger male’s own terror overwhelmed him to the point of mutism. “But do you see how that affected you right there? The idea that I’d be gone? I want you to think about experiencing that emotion and being completely helpless to stop it. Because that’s how I felt in there when you put your fucking mask on me and risked yourself in the process.” His voice was harder now, laced with the bitter remnants of their experience. “If I’m going to die, then let it fucking happen. Don’t you ever try to take my place and leave me alone with that guilt again. Are we clear?”

“Fuck.” Isaac groaned breathlessly between the heaves of his stomach, “Fuck, I’m sorry.” This wasn’t him, had never been him. There was not a definitive point that he could distinguish, he could not say whether his actions had played out through fear for the others or for a final push for adrenaline. He just didn’t know anymore. 

“Nope. You’re not sorry yet, buddy.” Albeit jovial in nature, his demeanor still held a protective tension created entirely by Isaac’s reckless decision making. Logan continued his ministrations along the other male’s broad shoulders, providing what little relief he could in such a distressing moment. Expelling one’s insides never came as an enjoyable endeavor, but when you factored in the acidic spores which produced such a reaction, it became infinitely less appealing. “You’re not doing a lot of things again, but that’s a lecture for a later date when your esophagus regrows.”

Character Flaws && Strengths | 001

The silence had gifted the male an atmosphere of appreciation; not necessary to thread conversations from thin air and linger on the devastation which had only wreaked havoc not so long ago. A large plank of wood had been nailed to the entrance of the station, securing whatever remained inside and avoiding an awaited influx of mutated. Overtime, however, as the months had surpassed even the most optimistic beliefs, the nails had rusted and appeared to be a solvable issue with a knife he’d had in possession; slotting it between the decaying metal and the barrier before him until it splintered off. “Try not to get yourselves killed, boys. I ain’t one for delivering death notifications to loved ones,” he spoke, supporting his weight against the now unbarred door as he used his entirety to crack it open; how it creaked from lack of use. “Slightly less attractive men first,” he spoke, extending a single arm and allowing the others to pursue before him.

“’Cause you think that breaking into a cop shop is original?” He was goading him. Despite the influx of infected in the hospital, and the close encounter with a Bloater – several deaths of the fellow survivors, Casey was seemingly at ease. Before he could get a word in and offer up his services (spoon or no spoon), Corvo was slotting a blade between the nailed-down plank of wood and the entrance, forcing it open with the weight of his muscled frame. “If you say so, Daddy,” Casey teased, elbowing Logan as he passed his way through the doorway. It was empty, a little too quiet. Casey was drumming his fingertips on the rifle strapped over his chest. He opened up a few cabinets here and there before finding anything of real value. He slipped a bulletproof vest, adorned with a police badge and accompanying gun holster, over his head. Stood with his palms forward. “How’s it look?” He joked, before patting himself down. It could definitely come in handy.

“Trust me, you won’t look more attractive than anyone when I let a clicker bite off your most appealing feature.” Logan snickered lowly at the exchange, face twisting slightly into a grimace due to Casey’s choice of nicknames as they lead the way inside. “Daddy, huh? Thanks for sharing your kink with the group, always figured you for a bottom anyway.” Fingertips began to dance along locked drawers, knowing that no officer in their right mind would have left the necessary keys simply lying around. “Terrible, we can still see your face.” Hoisting himself over yet another countertop, the tallest male began a silent descent into the back room with a half-moon smirk adorning his features. Bolt cutters... Bolt cutters... Of course. Discarded on the floor. How messy of them. “So how familiar are you two,” he announced in his return. “With the jaws of life?” Lifting up the sought after tool as a demonstration, he hopped back over the barrier between their figures. 

After the expected torment from the aftermath had diminished, the majority began dusting themselves off with a sense of relief for all that remained. He, however, had yet to see his childhood friend and was thus appreciative a goal had been set out before him. “If you’d rather not use the door we can go back and scavenge for a spoon to dig our way in,” he shrugged, the humour lost on him as if he were merely numb to the circumstance.

There was a mark across his shoulder from where the rifle strap rubbed wrong against his skin. He had it tipped against the wall now, metal cool against his ankles as they lounged about outside the bricked exterior of the Motel 6. Logan had a cigarette lit between his fingers, and Corvo was unusually quiet as a plot developed. While the majority of survivors had branched out to scavenge for supplies, Casey was sure that the police station was impenetrable. He’d seen the boards nailed across the windowsills. He was sure that whatever goodies awaited inside were as equally tough to get a grip on. Didn’t mean they couldn’t try. Didn’t stop him from following a cloud of Logan’s smoke, or Corvo’s heavy footsteps, as they walked off in the direction of the police station. “Better off using the spoon to dig our way out.” Wasn’t that how it worked on Escape to Alcatraz? Maybe that was the point.

“How inventive of you,” he quirked a brow at the other male, shielding his own sensibilities behind jest rather than face the distasteful truth that he had undoubtedly lost Kat in the onslaught. Everyone beyond their own feeble grouping were unaccounted for and thus, presumed to be lost; he would not invest hope in the prospect of former companions returning from the dead. The trio proceeded south towards the police station in relative silence, the first spoken words coming as their muscular frames took pause outside of its exterior. “Looks like somebody was really trying to keep the masses out... Who wants to do the honors?”

Isaac hit the ground running as they fled the Hospital, the constricted feeling to his lungs and the wetness of his mouth had been ignored until he stumbled to a stop a few blocks away, one knee hitting the soft, thoroughly overgrown patch of grass. Ragged breathing, his throat sounding torn apart. The adrenaline was gone and it had been the only thing to keep him on his feet, the only thing holding his chest together. 

So foolish.

“He won’t do a thing.” Casey supplied, before putting the subject to rest. A few cigarettes weren’t enough to face Corvo’s wrath, or distrust. Even in a post-apocalyptic setting. “Wouldn’t put it past him.” He joked, fingers tapping on the brickwork of the hospital building as he leaned against the outside wall. The smoke curled into blackness of the night’s air. Probably was time to hit the hay, he thought – but his sleeping schedule didn’t offer more than a few hours every few days, anyway. Logan passed along the lighter. Casey slipped the cigarette from his ear, cupped his hands around it to avoid the May chill burning out the flame. He took a drag, chest rising and falling heavily. “Girl troubles?” He questioned. He knew all about that. He found it odd, really, that people hated the hospital – many for different reasons. For many, it was plagued with death. For Logan, it seemed to be something else entirely. 

“You haven’t known him very long, have you?” Logan’s tease came like a ricochet, however he opted to follow his counterpart’s lead and allow the matter at hand to fall away... Until the matter of Corvo being reckless with his favourite crazy person came to mention. “Like I said, you haven’t known the guy as long as I have. Shit’s different for him when she’s involved... People stopped takin’ risks on the ones they care about a long time ago, ya know? Can’t afford the loss anymore. It’s like it cuts deeper now... Death, that is.” The smoke billowed out from his lips to linger in the air between them before a breeze eventually filtered it away into the night. Nicotine vibrated through his veins, coaxing each and every craving into a dull roar rather than the constant berate he had become accustomed to as of late. “Nah it’s ancient history now. All you're privileged to know is that I met a chick in a hospital and she’s not around anymore. Nothing more to the story.” There was plenty more, he simply didn’t wish to divulge it and ruin the addiction high he was eagerly running on. “Kinda interesting how that was your first thought, though.”